


Finish the Mission

by Novax



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Canon, Archery, F/M, Museums, Protective Clint Barton, Smart Is The New Sexy, Strong Female Characters, Teacher-Student Relationship, University
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:28:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26638840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Novax/pseuds/Novax
Summary: WIP--more tags and a better summary as the chapters progress.  Also, not beta'd at all.Clint Barton goes undercover to determine if Professor Highmark knows any of SHIELDs secrets.  During his investigation he screws up like always, but this time, it has the potential to affect so many other lives.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

It’s not that he minded undercover work, he was actually great at it, but to stick him here of all places; he wracked his brain trying to figure out who he most recently pissed off to get stuck with this detail. He squirmed in his seat trying to get comfortable. It wasn’t that the seat was hard, or the desk too tiny, it was the room, he hadn’t been in school since he was eight or nine. How could they expect him to fit in with this crowd when he hadn’t even finished primary school?

School had changed, or so he thought. When he was a kid there was a blackboard, which was actually green and a big desk in the front of the room. All the kids had desks that had hinged lids so you could store your books inside. This room was different. No blackboard, but two whiteboards, one plain old white and one with a grid across it and wires sticking out the side; his desk was, attached to his chair. Instead of a giant teacher’s desk, a small table with a computer was tucked in the corner. Maybe this is just what university was supposed to look like, how should he know.

“Um…ahem…so hi everyone.” He looked up towards the front of the class room. A young woman stood in front of the white board. She was obviously nervous. She stood shifting her weight from foot to foot, the papers in her hands trembled slightly. “I’m Daphne, or actually Ms. … Dr. Highmark I suppose…oh, whatever, we’re all adults, just call me whatever the hell you want.”

Daphne walked to the computer table, put her papers down and sat on the edge of the table. “You may notice I’m a bit nervous. This is actually my first teaching gig… but, not that I’m in anyway not qualified to teach you fine folk.” She quickly backtracked. “I think I’ll tell you about myself and then, since there’s not many of us, we can go around the room and introduce yourself and say why you’re taking this course.”

She looked around the room, Clint thought she was gauging her new student’s reaction to her suggestion. Not seeing any outright hostility, she carried on. “Alright, like I said, I’m Daphne Highmark. For the past five years I have been a curator of North American History and whatever else they throw at me, at the Smithsonian. I have a variety of degrees from a bunch of different schools. A colleague of mine asked if I had any interest in teaching continuing education and some of the soft science, social science electives here at Georgetown, and I said yes. It’s so nice of me to give up my evenings to teach, wouldn’t you say. Or maybe I just have no life. Any-hoo, I’m guessing most of you are in this class to get the social science course checked off on your transcript, otherwise you’d be taking the daytime regularly scheduled class, not sitting in this stuffy room at 7 p.m. on a Friday night. So, you know a bit about me, how’s about you tell me why on Earth you guys are taking a course on Medieval sexuality.”

Daphne had been right, most of her students were engineers, doctors, students from the hard sciences who were either just getting their degrees or expanding on them, a lot of ego in the room. “Ok, great. Good to know we have another Steve Jobs-Elon Musk in our midst.” Daphne said as the fifth person stated they were going to use their degree to fix the world’s problems with technology. “Your turn.” Daphne said smiling at the gentleman sitting in the back of the room, desk closest to the door.

“I’m Will Cross. I’m in this class because if fit my schedule. I’ve got my masters in econ, and now I’m going for my PhD and like you said, I needed an elective.” Clint gave a borderline smile to show he was done talking.

“Excellent. Now that we all know each other and I’ve already forgotten everyone’s name, let’s get started. What can you guys tell me about sexuality between the fifth and fifteenth centuries?”

~~~~~~

“Coulson, did I piss you off in some way worse than normal?”

“Bad day at school, Barton?”

Clint could hear the man smiling through the phone. Clint paced through the tiny apartment that was his for the duration of his mission. It wasn’t the worst place he had ever been; it was clean and warm and there didn’t appear to be any fleas or roaches.

“I just listened to a woman ten years my junior talk about sex for two hours. I don’t think I can handle this. Couldn’t I just go take someone out? Why did you stick me here, wasn’t there like a nerd available or at least someone who could fit in with college kids better?”

“Sexuality, Barton, not sex. There is a difference. And you’re there because, well, you were available. Just keep an eye on the target.”

Clint flopped onto his sofa and flipped open the folder with his target’s information. Daphne Highmark, age 24, redacted, redacted, redacted, PhDs in North American History, Medieval Studies, Historical and Ancient Linguistics, and more…damn this woman was smart, but why was she his target?

“Why is this chick my target, is she stealing ancient history secrets? Is she too smart? Does she know where the Jade Monkey is? Are we trying to recruit her? Does she know how to release a mummy…oh, shit, like at Night in the Museum? Is that why half her file is redacted?”

“She may be in possession of information relating to the activities of SHIELD, and if so we don’t want her sharing that information. Just get close to her, keep an eye on her. You’ll know what we’re looking for if you see it. And, you watch too much t.v.”

“Whatever, man” Clint said to the dead line he was still holding against his ear. “Dammit!” Clint shouted to no one, “I forgot to ask who’s going to do my homework.”


	2. Chapter 2

Clint spent the next few weeks getting to know his target, following her as she went about her day to day, seeing who she hung around with, where she did her shopping, got her coffee, he knew her routine. All he had to do now was figure out a way to get closer to her. She was friendly to all her students, but wasn’t the professor who hosted students at her home, or tried to hang out with them after class. There had to be a way to get close to her. He just needed to figure it out.

“Professor Highmark? Professor?” Clint called out, trying to get Daphne’s attention. She was standing with her lunch looking for a place to sit. He was seated at one of the only tables in the dining hall that wasn’t full and no one was trying to sit with him, which was working to his favor. Finally getting her attention, he pointed to the empty seat across from him and raised an eyebrow.

“Thank you, Mr. Cross.” Daphne said as she sat down across from him. “Is it normally this crowded in here? I usually bring a lunch and eat in my office.”

“It’s hit and miss. I think it depends on the day of the week, and being so close to spring break…whoo…, I think more kids are using this area to plan their trips. You know you can call me Will.”

“Would you prefer that I call you Will? It’s really your choice. Did you whoo?”

“Yeah, just call me Will, thanks. And aren’t you supposed to whoo at spring break?”

Daphne shrugged. “Dunno, I never went on spring break…whoo.”

Clint watched as Daphne started on her lunch, trying to decide how to get her to open up to him. In his experience there were generally two types of targets, the ones needing saved and the one’s looking to be saviours. He had to figure out which one Daphne was. She was alone at lunch, normally ate in her office, was a 24-year-old genius teaching in a school full of geniuses, but she was alone. Maybe she needed a friend, maybe she needed to be saved from herself.

“How’s your day going, Professor?”

“hmm? Oh, it’s going fine, thank you.”

“Just fine?”

Daphne put down her sandwich and looked Clint up and down. “Yes, just fine. Is there something you need, Will? I feel like you want to ask something but are waiting for an invitation of some sort.”

That caught Clint completely off guard. He hadn’t been expecting her to be so perceptive, and direct. Clint put his arms behind his head and leaned back in his chair, he knew sitting like this made his arms pop, and showed just enough skin between the hem of his shirt and belt to be tastefully interesting. This position had caught him many a female target in the past, maybe it would throw her off guard too.

“No, there’s nothing specific I needed to ask. Just trying to be friendly.”

Daphne balled up the foil her sandwich had come in, drained the last out of her soda can and stood from the table. “Will…Mr. Cross, thank you but I don’t need friends, furthermore, you’re a student so even if I did need one, it wouldn’t be you. Thank you for letting me sit here. If you’ll excuse me, I have another class to teach.”

Clint lowered his arms and slumped forward in his chair. That play was a bust. He was going to have to figure something else out. At least he knew she wasn’t going to be in her office for the next few hours, he could do a decent search while she was in class.

~~~~~

Daphne’s office was tucked far away from the other faculty offices, she had no assistant or receptionist, and Clint was almost certain this office had at one point been a large storage room. There wasn’t even a window. He easily picked the lock and let himself in, he figured he had at least an hour and a half before the class she was teaching let out and she made it back to her office.

He started at the desk, it seemed the most likely place to hid something, especially since there was no file cabinet or storage unit. Clint lowered himself to the floor and started poking around.

“Hello? Who’s in here?”

It had been maybe ten minutes since Clint had let himself into Daphne’s office, why was she back already, her class should still be happening. Clint popped his head out from under the desk, he had been looking for hidden compartments, scanned the room and found Daphne standing in the doorway. When she saw Clint, her posture relaxed a bit and she leaned against the door frame.

“Mr. Cross, why are you under my desk?”

Clint crawled out from underneath the desk, doing some quick thinking. Why was he under her desk? “Mouse…I thought I saw a mouse.”

“Ugh, really? Is there one? Do you see it?”

“I don’t see one now. It’s probably gone, I probably scared it away.”

“What if it’s in my desk…can you check?”

“You want me to go through your desk?”

“Yes, that way if something jumps out, you don’t get the pleasure of hearing me scream like a wee little girl.”

Cling laughed and started opening drawers, he may as well keep his search going, but now with the added bonus of permission. “So what happens if something jumps out at me and I scream?”

“I won’t judge you Mr. Cross, I promise.”

“Yeah, and when 20 people come tearing into this room to find out why a woman is screaming bloody murder…then what.” Clint opened the last drawer and gently riffled through its contents, still not finding anything of note.

“Don’t worry, nobody’s gonna’ come and check on me.”

Clint looked up from the drawer he was going through and really looked at Daphne. Her tone was playful, but the look on her face, it looked like she really believed what she had said. And, there was something else, something was off.

“Professor, are you okay? Have you been crying?”

“I’m fine, thank you. Now that we know there’s no mouse, why were you in my office to being with.”

“I was going to leave you a note, on your door, but it was open, so I let myself in. I thought maybe you had an assistant or something in here I could leave a message with.”

Daphne snorted, “sure, like I’d get an assistant.”

“Um, yeah, so I came in and I thought I saw a mouse, and now here we are.” Clint walked around the desk and stood in front of Daphne. She had definitely been crying, her eyes were red, and she was still sniffling slightly. “You’re not okay. What happened?”

“It’s really nothing. Did you say the door was open?”

“Yeah, unlocked and open.”

“For fucks sake!” Daphne shouted throwing her hands in the air and striding into the room. “Did it look like anything was gone through? This is the third time in a month someone’s broken in here.” Daphne was looking at her small bookshelf and Clint was kind of grateful he hadn’t had a chance to search that yet. He was good at putting things back, but he had a feeling Daphne would be able to note the slightest thing out of place.

“Why would someone break in to your office? You don’t keep tests or answers in here do you?” Or SHIELD secrets, Clint thought to himself.

“No, of course not. I have no idea why people keep doing these things to me.” Daphne sat on the edge of her desk and put her face in her hands.

“Why aren’t you in class, you said you had one to teach.”

“Apparently Dr. Forsyth decided that he was going to teach the class going forward.” Daphne said, her voice muffled against her hands. “I guess I don’t have enough experience to teach introductory level Greek, even though I’m fluent.”

“Can’t you just tell him to screw off?”

“Forsyth has tenure. He can do whatever he pleases. This is the second class I’ve lost. I don’t think I’m a bad teacher, I know the material, I’m okay with the students. They just all hate me.” Daphne’s voice had started to tremble, Clint realized she was close to crying again. He went back to the desk opened the middle drawer and pulled a tissue from a pack he had seen while looking for “mice”.

“The students don’t hate you; I know that for a fact, I’m one of your students.” He said, handing her the tissue.

“No, not the students. The other faculty.” Daphne accepted the tissue and daubed at her eyes. “They’ve gone out of their way to be deliberately unwelcoming and downright hostile.” Daphne wiped her eyes again, squared her shoulders and looked up at Clint, “I shouldn’t be bothering you with this, I’m sorry. You said you came here to leave me a note. What can I help you with Mr. Cross? I suddenly have an abundance of time today.”

“You can help me by coming for a beer with me. At lunch, you said you didn’t need a friend, I beg to differ.”

“That can possibly be why you’re here.”

“No, it wasn’t my original intention for coming, but it is now. Beer. Now. Let’s go.”

“Mr. Cross, I can’t. I’m trying to get the respect of my colleagues, going for a beer with one of my students is not how that’s going to happen.”

“Come on! Why do you care what they think? You’re obviously brilliant and talented. And what they’re doing isn’t good natured welcome to the team hazing, they’re making you cry, treating you like crap. That’s a toxic, abusive work environment. Screw them. We’ll go for a drink, you can vent and bitch, I’m a big boy I can keep a secret. And, I know a few bars around the city that the academic type will be nowhere to be found.” Clint held out his hand to Daphne, “trust me.”

“Fine. But the last guy I trusted, turned out to be a major asshole. If you end up the same, I may just have to kill you.”

They left Daphne’s office and made towards the parking lot.


	3. Chapter 3

“Where am I meeting you?”

“We can take one vehicle.”

“No, no, Mr. Cross. What if you’re really a terrible person and I need to escape quickly?”

“If I’m really that terrible, you wouldn’t make it back to your car to begin with. Also, if you decide you’ve changed your mind you need to escape before we arrive, you can just jump off.” Clint had stopped in the parking lot, broad smile across his face. “And I promise I’ll be nice if you stop calling me Mr. Cross, it’s just Will.”

“A motorcycle? You’re kidding? It’s February.”

“Nope, not kidding. And it’s nice out, not even raining. Hop on.” It had been unseasonably warm and Clint had been itching to get his bike on the road.

“No.”

“Have you ever ridden before?”

“No.”

“It’s easy, really easy when you’re riding bit… passenger. I do all the work; you just hold on to me tight and lean when I lean.” Clint unlocked a spare helmet from the back of his bike, glad that he was actually prepared for once, and held it out to her. “Oh, just make sure you lean in the same direction I’m leaning.”

“No.”

Daphne did not move to take the helmet from Clint’s outstretched hand.

“Oooookkkkkk…is it me or the bike you don’t trust?”

“It’s actually me I don’t trust. I have no balance, I trip over air, I’ll die on this thing.”

Clint smirked and stuck the helmet on Daphne’s head, doing up the strap snug, but not too tight.

“Hey.” Daphne protested as Clint did up the helmet.

“I promise you won’t die.”

Clint straddled the bike, made sure it was stable, and reached out to Daphne. “Swing your leg over and put that foot on the ground. Get centered and sit behind me, as close as you can. Like when you think your close enough, get closer.” He waited a patiently as he could, as she grabbed his shoulders in a death grip and swung her right let over the bike. “You need to get closer. Either put your hands on my hips and pull yourself close; or if you can reach the ground with both feet, stand up and step forward.”

As Daphne put her hands on his hips and pulled herself against him, Clint felt a stirring deep in his belly. It had been a while since he’d been laid and Daphne was a smoke show, whether she knew it or not. He did his best to push those thoughts out of his head, this mission wasn’t a bang and run. He had to get close to her and find out what she knew, if anything. And she really did seem like she needed a friend, not a one nighter.

“Hold on to me nice and tight. You can leave your hands on my hips, but, if you’re scared, or if it’s more comfortable, wrap your arms all the way around me.”

“I don’t want to squeeze you too hard. What if I hurt you?”

“I one hundred percent guarantee you’re not going to hurt me. Lift your feet up off the ground.” Clint laughed aloud at the immediate look of panic that stole across Daphne’s face. “I’ve got the weight of the bike; it won’t fall over. Lift your feet up, there’s a set of pegs behind your calves, rest your feet on them. The angle is a bit awkward, but this is a quick ride, so you shouldn’t get too sore.”

Daphne did as she was told, “but, now my head is going to clunk against yours.”

Clint ran an exasperated hand down his face, this was adorable but taking forever. “No. It won’t. Are you ready?”

“No.”

“Excellent.” Clint threw on his own helmet and stood up to kick the bike into gear. Or at least he tried to, Daphne’s grip on him tightened so much when he moved, he could not actually stand up. “Ok, I need to start the bike now, you need to loosen off a bit.”

Clint kicked the bike into gear and slowly rolled out of the parking spot. He decided a test lap around the lot was probably for the best. He really didn’t want to dump his bike if she leaned the wrong way or freaked out. He went slowly around the lot, letting Daphne get used to how to move with him and the bike.

“You ready to go a bit faster.”

“Yes!” Daphne shouted over the rumbling of the engine.

“Really? I was expecting you to say no again.”

“This is actually kind of fun.”

Clint reached down and squeezed one her hands that was digging into his abs. She may be having fun, but he was definitely going to have some fingertip bruises there in the morning. “Hang on tight baby, here we go.” Clint shifted gears and roared out of the parking lot.

They cruised down M street, around the circle and parked in a sketchy alleyway off of 19th. Clint pulled off his helmet and locked it to the bike. “There’s a really good Mexican place near here, I thought we could get a drink, maybe have a taco.”

“That sounds good, just one problem.” Clint looked at Daphne, trying to figure out what the problem could be. “How do I get this off?” She pulled at the strap, but was making no progress.

“Here, I’ll get it.” Clint reached over and undid her helmet.

“Thanks. I think that thing may have squeezed some of my brain out.”

“You have some brains to spare; you should be fine.”

“Thanks, Will.” Daphne deadpanned as she tried to flatten her hair down. “Now, did you say something about tacos?”

The bar was a place Clint had found while tailing a guy from the Mexican consulate, he turned out to be on the up and up. Clint had discovered the guy had a fondness for drag Karaoke, something that SHIELD did not feel needed to be broadcast to the world. The place was a dive, underground, smoky, authentic food and great tequila. He pushed through the crowd towards an empty table in one of the corners, Daphne, however, was still stuck at the entrance trying to politely maneuver through the crowd. Clint made his way back to her, grabbed her hand and dragged her behind him.

“You know what, professor?” He said, as he pulled out one of the table chairs for her. “You may be too nice.”

“I think you may be right Mr. Cross… I mean Will.”

Their server swung by the table and Clint ordered “two Modelo’s, two Chinaco Reposado’s and whatever you guys have on for meal special.” 

“Did you just order for me?”

“Uhhh, I guess I did.”

“And I’m pretty sure you called me ‘baby’ earlier.”

“Possibly.”

“Will, I think you’re taking liberties you haven’t been granted.”

“Shit. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to put you down or anything, I tend to take control. It’s kind of who I am. Really, it’s nothing against you or your abilities or anything.”

“You ordering my dinner and drinks is not the worst thing that’s happened this week.” Daphne looked around the room, her face flipping between confusion and interest. “How did you ever find this place?”

“A guy from work brought me here once. I like it. It’s authentic.”

“It’s definitely something. There are competing belief systems everywhere. That’s a statue of Itzamn, Myan. Over there, that’s Quetzalcotal, Aztec. I’m pretty sure above the bar is a tapestry of Our Lady of Guadalupe and that’s straight up Catholic. Are they trying to reach every corner here, or do they like being eclectic?

“I didn’t understand three quarters of the words you just said. Thanks.” Clint nodded at the sever as she dropped off their drinks. Clint pushed one of the tequilas towards Daphne. “This is supposed to be a sipping tequila, not a shot.”

“Then why did you order beer as well?”

“It’s _supposed_ to be a sipping tequila, but anything’s a shot if you’re ambitious enough.” Clint picked up his shot glass and stared at Daphne until she did the same. “Salud.”

“Salud.”

~~~~~~~~

“This is so good.” Daphne said around a mouthful of barbacoa. “It’s literally the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

Clint choked on his own food as his mind went to a dark and dirty place. “I’m glad you like it. It seemed like you needed a pick me up.”

“I really did. You’ve been wonderful. Thank you for forcing me to ride with you on your motorcycle, thank you for ordering my drinks and food.”

“Sarcasm?”

“No, not really. I am very grateful. It’s nice not to think and make decisions from time to time.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, doesn’t mean I’m going to answer.”

“Did I do something at lunch to make you uncomfortable or piss you off?”

Daphne leaned back in her chair and gave Clint an appraising look. “My ex was a cocky, overbearing, misogynist. The way you were acting a lunch, it reminded me of him.”

“Your ex is the asshole you were referring to earlier? The one you trusted.”

“Yup.”

“I can be a cocky jerk somedays, probably overbearing too, I think it’s with good intentions; I don’t think I’m a misogynist though. I wasn’t actively trying to be an asshole.” No, Clint thought, I was trying to distract you with my body. Maybe he was a misogynist. Clint took a pull of his beer, “think you could let me know when I’m being too much of a dick?”

“Sure, Will. I think I can handle that.”

“Good. Another question.” Clint looked at Daphne to make sure he had the go ahead to keep peppering her with questions. She nodded her head as she took a bit of her taco, letting him know he could keep going. “If you hate your job, and your colleagues treat you like shit, why are you still there?”

“But I don’t hate my job. I’m really loving teaching. My colleagues just hate me.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m me, or at least that’s the only reason I can come up with.”

“That’s not a very good answer.”

“Ugh. I’m young, I’m brilliant, I’m a threat to how they do things. For the few classes I have, or had, I changed the curriculum. Moved from a straight up Didactic-Socratic method, to and open and experiential methodology.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I don’t just lecture, I try to have projects, or find fun things that make the material relatable. Can you imagine if all I did was read straight out of the textbook for our class? I’d fall asleep myself, it’s hard enough keeping you guys involved.”

“I enjoy your class. I didn’t think I would, but I do. Are you having class tomorrow? It’s the Friday before spring break starts.”

“You forgot to say ‘whoo’. And yes, I’m having class. If I bail on a class because of spring break—whoo—I’ll never hear the end of it. The old ass professors will think I fucked off to go to the beach or something.”

“Do you have plans?”

“Nah, I’m just running a few day programs at the Smithsonian. What about you?”

“Kickin’ back and relaxing.”

“No studying, or perhaps working on your final paper for my class?”

“Yeah, I guess some of that too.”

Daphne downed the last of her beer and reached for her bag. “I should get going.”

“And how do you plan on getting gone? You’ve had just as much to drink as I have.”

“I was going to get a taxi. There’s no way either of us are getting back on your bike.”

“Alright, we can share a cab.”

“I’m in Arlington, where are you?”

“Oh, um, I’m off Dupont. Wait, if you take a cab home, your car is still at the school, how are you getting in tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’ll grab the metro. It’s not too long of a trip. How much do I owe you?”

“My treat.”

“No, that’s not fair.”

“My treat.” Clint said as firmly as he could, while still being nice.

“Thanks, Will. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Daphne circled the table and gave Clint’s shoulder a squeeze before making her way out.

Clint watched as Daphne headed out the door, making sure none of the heads that turned as she walked by followed her.

“Did your girlfriend have to leave? Their server asked as she bent to collect the plates off the table.

“Not my girlfriend.” Clint said leaning backwards, assuming his target acquisition position.

“How about another drink then?”

“Love one.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Well, guys, seeing as there are only the four of us, unless anyone has any questions or wants to just hang out in the classroom…class dismissed.”

Clint looked around the room, only himself and two other students had shown up for class. He knew there was a good chance he would be the only student there tonight; he was kind of shocked that the other two had shown up.

“Hey, Professor?”

“Yes, Mr. Monroe?”

“Do we get extra credit for showing up to the last class before spring break?”

“Unfortunately, no. But you will forever have my undying gratitude. Go, leave, enjoy your holiday. All of you get out of my classroom.”

“Told you so. You should have cancelled the class.”

“I’m pretty sure that you asked if I was cancelling class, you never once told me to cancel the class. So, boo on you.” Daphne closed her eyes, scrunched up her nose and stuck her tongue out at Clint. “Oh, what happened? Are you ok? Did you get in a fight after I left?” Daphne had opened her eyes and zeroed in on Clint’s collar bone, not quite hidden by the collar of his shirt and coat. “You’ve got a giant bruise…ahhh, I take it you tipped the server well? Suppose it’s a good thing I left when I did, may have screwed up your game if I had stayed any longer.” Daphne’s look of concern at his injuries quickly turned into a mocking smirk.

Clint rarely regretted a one nighter, but this one, she had a thing for sucking and biting, and not in the good way. If it screwed up his mission, Coulson would kill him.

“Professor, I, it wasn’t…”

“You look like you got attacked by a vacuum. Do they hurt?” Daphne asked poking one of the marks on his collar bone.

This was good, Clint thought, she didn’t seem mad, or jealous, he could work with this. “Nothing I can’t handle. Just don’t poke them.”

“What? You mean like this?” And she poked him again. “Does it burn when you pee?”

“Screw off.” Clint grabbed her wrists, pinning them at her side. She gently struggled, pouting at her predicament. “Since class got out early, would you like to join me for dinner again?”

“Am I that good of a wing-man?”

“Seriously, I had a good time with you yesterday. If you’re jealous, I’m certain we could get you some too.”

“No. Thank you.” Daphne pulled away from Clint at the suggestion.

“I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“It’s fine, really. Definitely not looking for a one-night stand, though.”

“Ok, no hook ups tonight. Just a couple of friends going to dinner.”

“Do you think we could stay in? Maybe just grab a pizza, watch a crappy movie? I don’t think I’m up for going out two nights in a row."

“You had me at pizza. My place or yours?”

“Um, let’s go to mine. There’s an amazing pizza place really close to my house.”

“Great, where did you park?”

“I took the metro again, there’s something up with my car, it’s making a funny noise.”

“Not a problem, I’ve got lots of room for the both of us.”

“Have you looked outside? It’s pouring. I am not getting on a motorcycle in this.”

“Please, I checked the forecast, I’ve got my car and this.” Clint waved an umbrella in Daphne’s face.

Clint opened the umbrella over the two of them as they made their way to Clint’s car. He held the passenger door open for her, keeping her covered until she was safely inside.

“What’s your address? Where I’m heading?”

Daphne gave Clint her address, he didn’t really need it, her address was one of the few non-redacted items in her file. He was glad he remembered to ask; it would have been hard to explain why he knew exactly where she lived.

~~~~~~

“This is me.” Daphne said, pointing to the three-story walkup Brownstone she lived in.

Clint watched the road and sidewalks for movement as Daphne found her keys and unlocked the entry door.

“Ever think of moving to a place with an elevator?” Clint panted as he climbed the stairs behind her. Not being an active field agent was taking its toll on his fitness level, he’d have to start hitting the gym again.

“Shut-up. I like this place. It has character. And this is how I get my cardio.”

Clint walked in to the apartment behind Daphne, hanging back as she turned on more lights. Her place was slightly bigger than the flop apartment he had in D.C. but much better appointed. Hardwood floors, leaded paned windows, marble counter top in the kitchen, damn there was even a real wood fireplace; it was old, but well maintained. It was good to have a chance to scope it out before conducing a proper search. With a building this old, you could never rely on the plans and prints to be accurate.

“What are you having? I’ve got coffee, tea, beer, wine, scotch, milk.”

“Milk?”

“Are you questioning why I have milk or are you requesting milk?”

“It just seems like an odd thing to offer an adult male for a beverage. I assume you have milk for tea. A beer would be nice.”

Daphne popped the tops off of two beers and motioned towards her sofa, “make yourself at home.”

“Thanks. Your place is really nice.” Clint said, settling into the sofa. Her place, not only better maintained than both his flop apartment and real apartment, was super cozy. He felt like he could kick back, have a drink in front of the fire and just totally relax here.

“It’s not much, but it’s home and it’s mine.” Daphne said smiling as she sat down next to him. “What do you take on your pizza?”

“Anything but mushrooms.”

“On, it. I’ll order the pizza; you pick a movie.”

“Fair deal.”

“It’ll be about twenty minutes for the pizza, what movie did you pick?” Daphne asked flopping back onto her couch.

“The Princess Bride.” Clint muttered.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that.”

“The Princess Bride, I haven’t seen it in forever and you have it, so I picked it.”

“I’m so glad I decided to take you up on your offer of friendship. I love this movie!”

“You’re cool with us being friends? Not concerned about your coworkers anymore?”

“Yeah, I think so. You were right, I shouldn’t care what other people, especially my asshole colleagues.”

“Can I get you to say the part where you say I’m right again, I wanna’ see if I can get it on tape.”

“Quiet you.” Daphne slapped Clint on the arm and settled herself against him to watch the movie. For someone who had been rejecting his friendship a few hours ago, she seemed to have no problem using him as a pillow. Clint figure he may as well enjoy the moment too, he threw his feet up on the coffee table and slipped his arm around her shoulders.

“Why didn’t Buttercup just tell Westley how she felt, it would have been so much easier.”

“Why didn’t Westley tell Buttercup how he felt?”

“Westley was a stable boy, telling the rich lady you love her, it could go so bad for him.”

“I feel like you have experience in this matter. I now have questions. Were you ever a stable boy?” Daphne asked. “Oh, pizza’s here!” Daphne made to get up off the couch, but Clint pulled her back down.

“No, ya’ don’t. I’m drinking your beer; I’ll get the pizza.”

“You got dinner yesterday, I’ll get the pizza.”

“I don’t think so, lady.” The pizza guy knocked again. “Hang on, I’m coming.” Clint shouted. “Stay down!” Clint pulled a blanket off the back of the sofa and quickly wrapped Daphne in it.

By the time Daphne had extracted herself from the blanket Clint had paid the pizza guy and brought it back into the living room.

“How did you do that? How did you wrap me up so quickly…and effectively?”

“I’ve got skills, with a ‘z’.”

Daphne hard swallowed the bite of pizza she had taken, and coughed, trying to clear her throat “pretty sure I just inhaled a piece of ham. Skills, with a ‘z’?”

“Yup, it’s what all the cool kids are saying these days.”

“Then why are you saying it?”

“Be nice, or I’ll wrap you up again.”

They sat for a bit watching the movie, eating pizza, sitting in companionable silence. Clint still could not figure out why this woman was his target. He’d been following her around D.C. for weeks, had lunch and dinner with her, she had no contacts outside of the Smithsonian and Georgetown, she didn’t go drinking, she didn’t party, her phone records were nonexistent, she watched more cat videos than anyone human every should, she didn’t even have a parking ticket. Aside from her being brilliant, she was a normal, funny, beautiful, woman.

“How long have you been here for?” Clint asked, as Westley and Buttercup made it out of the Fire Swamp.

“About a year or so. I moved in when I left my husband.”

Clint literally spat out his beer, “you’re married?”

“Um, what’s the date? My divorce is final on March 4. If it’s before then, yes. I’m married. Didn’t I mention this yesterday?”

“You talked about an ex. I thought you meant a boyfriend. Aren’t you far too young to be married?” Clint racked his brain, there was nothing in her files saying she had been married. Either it was in the redacted part or SHIELD did not know, which seemed unlikely.

“I did a lot of things really young. Why not get married too?”

“Did you at least love the guy?”

“At the time, yes, I did…I think.”

“You think?”

“Look, I met him at the Smithsonian, when we were setting up a new exhibit. He was a big deal and he asked me out. I was flattered, we dated, he asked me to marry him, I said yes, things fell apart and now I’m getting divorced.” Daphne reached for her beer, but it was empty. “Would you like another beer? I think I need another one.”

“Yes, thank you.” Clint handed her his empty, trying to focus his train of thought. She had been married, she was getting a divorce, he had to find out more about this future ex-husband, he may be the source of whatever intel she was thought to have. “If you don’t mind me asking, what does your ex do, fancy museum guy too?”

“No, he worked for the government.”

“Doing what? I’m mean technically I work for the government.”

“You do? Is that what an economist does?”

Clint realized he had fucked up. His cover story was he worked for a Fortune 800, he was thinking about his work for SHIELD, a government agency. “It’s what I do. I’m an analyst for the department of energy.” Energy, why the hell did he pick energy, what the fuck did he know about energy.

“Yeah, he was more of a Defense guy. I can’t really talk about it though.” Daphne sat back down, handing Clint a fresh beer.

“I wasn’t trying to pry. I was caught off guard is all.”

“How about you, Will? Any skeletons in your closet?”

“More than I could possibly every share.” Clint shifted in his seat so he was facing Daphne, he was going for a mysterious and alluring vibe, unfortunately, he flinched.

“Awwww, did you tweak one of your hickies?”

“Shut up.” He had. Maybe he could go for endearing. He tried to blush and look abashed, but he didn’t think he was pulling it off.

“Do you want some Witch Hazel?”

“Like from Bugs Bunny? I don’t see how that would help.”

“Huh, I never made that connection.” Daphne shook her head and continued, “Witch Hazel is a topical analgesic, it’s good for treating inflammation and irritations of the skin.”

“Thanks Dr. Quinn, but I’ll be ok. Now hush, they’re at the Miracle Man, I love this guy.” Clint pulled on Daphne’s arm until she collapsed against him, grabbed the blanket he had used on her earlier and covered them up.

They laid on Daphne’s couch, not talking, watching the movie, enjoying each other’s company. The movie ended and Clint untangled himself from Daphne and the blanket they had been using.

“Time for me to head home.”

“Drive safe.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Clint started down the corridor towards the stairs, but turned back when he heard Daphne call his name. 

“Hey, Will? Enjoy your spring break.”

“Whoo.” Clint answered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Anything to report, Agent Barton?”

“I found out she was married. Why isn’t that part of her file?”

“Did she say to whom she was married?”

“No, sir. All she told me was she met and married him young, their divorce is final on March 4 and he works for the government. No details. I got the distinct impression she does not like talking about him.”

“That’s all she said?”

“She did refer to him as an asshole misogynist. Should I try to find out more about the ex-husband?”

“No. We have plenty of information on him. Find out what she knows about her ex, his dealings, and how much of that information she is willing to share.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Clint was used to working for a covert, secret agency, but this was getting ridiculous. How could he find out intel if he wasn’t given the basic information he needed to ask the right questions?


	5. Chapter 5

“Hi, Professor.”

“Mr. Cross? Sorry…Will…what are you doing here?”

Daphne looked up from her desk, smiling as Clint entered her office.

“I gotta’ say, this office is a lot nicer than your one at the school.” Clint said taking a seat. The office was much nicer, even had a window. Daphne had taken the time to make it a bit more inviting as well, there were some paintings on the walls and a few plants on the window sill. “Is this a good time? Your assistant said I could come in.”

“Jack isn’t my assistant. He’s a grad student doing research. I think he panics when he’s asked a question and gives the first answer that pops into his head. He hates disappointing people.”

“Doesn’t sound like a very good grad student.”

“I don’t think he’s going to make it. But, yes, this is a good time. The day program I run finished about a half hour ago, I’m technically done for the day.”

“Awesome. I’ve never been here and I was hoping you could give me some tips on where to start museuming.”

“You’ve never been to the Smithsonian? Oh and, just call me Daphne.”

“I don’t know if I can do that. You’re an authority figure, you need a title.”

“Dude, I’m 24, I’m not an authority figure by any means. You’re the one going for your PhD.”

“And you already have a bunch. How is that? Did you finish high school when you were seven or something?”

“Yeah, I actually didn’t go to high school. I skipped it completely.” Clint watched as a flush crept up Daphne’s neck, into her face and she dropped her eyes to the floor. She really didn’t like talking about herself. “You got me to call you Will, you’re going to call me Daphne, at least when we’re not in school.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Daphne rolled her eyes at Clint. “How have you never been to the Smithsonian. Doesn’t every grade school and high school do a field trip here?”

“I’m not from the area. I grew up in Iowa.” Clint had a moment of panic as the words slipped out of his mouth. Being from Iowa wasn’t part of his cover story. He was going to have to tell Coulson he fucked up, yet again, and was never going to hear the end of it. It wasn’t like him to slip up in front of a target, something about this woman was getting to him.

“Oh, that explains that. Do you want a tour?”

Clint had to stifle a groan, the last thing he wanted to do was get stuck in a museum any longer than absolutely required. He had been hoping to convince her to leave and go do something else. She was giving him an in, though, and he needed to press his advantage. He gave what he hoped was an enthusiastic smile and said, “that would be great.” 

“Is there anything museum related you’re particularly interested in? We could start there.”

“A colleague of mine told me about the Captain America exhibit, he said it was really good.”

“I don’t show that exhibit. It’s a waste of museum space.”

Clint was shocked at the sudden turn in Daphne’s demeanor. She looked downright angry, arms crossed over her chest, flushed again, nostrils flared.

“He’s part of American history, shouldn’t you be all over that?”

“Captain America was a poster boy for eugenics, and he was too dumb to realize it. They have a whole exhibit about him in the Air and Space museum. Why? Why there of all places? The one and only time the guy flew a plane, he crashed it into the ocean.” Daphne threw her arms up in exasperation

“Alright, alright. No Captain America.” Clint held his hands up in surrender, not wanting to anger his target any further. “What would you suggest.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just a pet peeve of mine…Captain America, that is.” Daphne took a deep breath, tightened her pony, and looked Clint in the eyes. “The Smithsonian has 19 different museums, right now were in the National Museum of American history. We could…”

“Holy shit.” Clint cut in, “19 different museums? Oh, sorry, Daphne, continue.” Clint felt his own face get warm, he was not used to being caught off guard, and she’d done it to him so many times. Was he losing his touch?

Daphne smiled and stifled a laugh. He felt a stirring in his stomach that he wasn’t entirely certain was strictly from being hungry. He filed this feeling away to be assessed and dealt with later on.

“How’s about we grab a bite at the café and then go on a tour.”

“That is a wonderful idea. Lead the way.”

Daphne led the way through the museum towards the cafe, Clint a few steps behind. That’s when Clint realized he was in real trouble, big trouble. He was watching her, but not as a target. He was mesmerized by the sway of her hips, the way her hair bounced, the fact that she was wearing jeans and chucks didn’t help either. She looked young and vulnerable; he couldn’t help thinking of how tight she had held him in on his bike; how much he had wanted to bash in the head of the professor who made her cry. He violently shook his head, reminded himself he was on a mission and he was focusing on developing a friendship with her, nothing more. He sped up to walk next to her.

“I can’t believe I’ve never been here. This place is so cool.”

“It really is. Every day I find something new about this place, or learn something from one of my colleagues or one of the exhibits. It’s amazing. I hope I can share some of what I learned with my students.”

“I think you’re doing great; I’m learning lots.” Clint was learning a lot from her. Never having gone to school for any length of time, he hadn’t been expecting to enjoy being stuck in a class room. “You really seem to love what you’re teaching and you make the boring stuff interesting.”

“That’s very kind of you to say. What would you like for…lunch? Early supper…what is it called when it’s like a lunch supper? It’s brunch for breakfast lunch, there’s gotta be something.”

“How about lupper?”

“Ha. That works. What would you like for lupper, Will?”

“You are not buying.”

“Like hell I’m not. I work here, thus, I get a discount. And you’ve got both meals we’ve had so far. You’re a poor student, it’s not fair to you.”

“I may be a student, but I am by no means poor. I’m going for a PhD after all.”

“Yeah, so you have even less money since you can’t work while getting your doctorate.”

“Huh?”

“Isn’t it a part of your doctoral agreement that you’ll take no employment? That you’ll devote your time to study and research? That was part of all of my agreements.”

“Yes, of course, that’s in there.” Clint made a mental note about getting more information on all this school stuff and how it worked. “I meant, well, my agency is paying for me to go to school.” That wasn’t even a lie, he was technically working, SHIELD must be paying someone for him to take this class.

“Wow, how did you swing that? They must really love you there.”

“I don’t know if love is the word I would use. I just have skills that they need.”

“With a ‘z’?”

“Duh.”

“Whatever. It’s still my treat, order what you want. I’m getting a club and a beer.”

They gathered their food and found an empty table away from the multitudes visiting tourists.

“I thought the café would be nicer here.” Clint said looking around. “At least they have beer.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of drab, but with the volume of people that come through it would probably be hard to maintain anything nice. The eatery in the Castle is much nicer.”

“I’m sorry, the Castle? You guys have a Castle?”

“The Smithsonian Castle, it’s the centre block to the whole museum complex, houses the administration offices, highlights some of the different collections, but it’s really the architecture that people go to see.”

“There is so much I don’t know.”

“That’s alright, your hanging out with a curator…and teacher now! I’ll learn ya’ good.” Daphne said, beaming at Clint.

“Oh, damn.” Clint said, coming to a quick realization, he was going to kill Coulson.

“Hmmm, what is it?”

“Sorry, nothing. I just remembered something.”

“Do you need to go? Did you just say yes to the tour to be polite and are looking for a way out?” Daphne peered over her bottle at him, assessing his reaction.

“No. I didn’t say yes just to be polite.” If you knew why I said yes, we’d be having a completely different conversation, Clint thought to himself. “I just remembered I have an exam the first Tuesday back. You’re very direct, most people wouldn’t ask if I was just being polite.”

Daphne shrugged and swallowed a bite. “Being direct saves a lot of time. Doesn’t make you too many friends though.”

“I suppose not.”

They finished their meals, Clint helping Daphne with her fries, despite the scowl she gave him when he grabbed a few. Clint bundled the waste and brought it over to the bin, Daphne trailing behind, a look of concentration on her face.

“It’s kind of hard to get a read on you, or what may be of interest to you. Where would you like to start?”

“I dunno, this is the museum of American History, why don’t we start at the beginning?”

“The beginning? There isn’t really an order, but we can make something work.”

“What do you mean there isn’t an order. Shouldn’t it start with, shit I dunno, like the Civil War, and the Declaration of Independence, and Custard and slavery and stuff.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t do so good in history class, huh?”

“Why?” Clint asked, taken slightly aback. It was a true statement, but it still hurt. He had very much enjoyed second grade history.

“Those things, they weren’t even a little bit in order. And its Custer, not custard, he was a general not a creamy dessert goo.”

“Oh. Well, I majored in economics, not history.”

“Sure you did.” Daphne said, patting Clint’s arm. “The museum is laid out by exhibitions—rooms or displays that meet a common theme. We do have a section on American Enterprise, that may be a good place to start. It relates to economics.”

“No. That’s my boring ass job. I’m on spring break, whoo. Can’t we look at something more fun?”

“Come on, I’ll give you the nickel tour.” Daphne linked her arm through Clint’s and pulled him towards the exhibits.

“Are we actually going to look at nickels?”

Daphne snorted and kept walking.


	6. Chapter 6

Clint was honestly having fun. He never thought he would ever have fun in a museum, unless things did come to life. It was most certainly his tour guide making his time enjoyable, she didn’t bog down in detail, told stories that made everything real and relatable. 

“I wish I had known lunchboxes would be collectable. Pretty sure I had a Muppets one and my older brother may have had a KISS one when we were kids.”

“Oh my gosh. How old _are_ you?”

“Old enough not to take your sass, missy.”

“The museum closes in about twenty minutes. Is there anything else you’d like to see quickly?” Daphne asked as her and Clint walked towards the exit.

“Probably, but I think I should get going. Thank you so much, this was great.”

“No problem. I guess I’ll see you next Friday. Enjoy the rest of your spring break…whoo.”

“Yup. Thanks again, Professor.”

“Bye…Mr. Cross.” Daphne waved at Clint and stepped back inside the Museum.

Clint started down the steps and realized he didn’t want to go, he wanted to hang out with Daphne more. He was struggling to find justification for feeling how he did. These were not mission oriented feelings. He stood on the steps torn between going back to the museum and finding Daphne or heading to his car. Clint eventually decided that he needed to build on the momentum they had, see if he could get some more answers, find out more about her and her ex, focus on the mission. In his head this sounded like the perfect reason to go back. It had nothing to do with how every time she touched him his heart jumped, or how when she smiled and laughed, he wanted to make it last forever. He turned and bound back up the steps and yanked on the handle of the door to the museum. He had not been expecting Daphne tumble out of the doorway and into his arms when he ripped open the door.

“Are you alright?” Clint asked, as he let go of the door and moved them so neither he nor Daphne would get hit by it as it swung closed. “I wasn’t expecting you to still be standing there. Were you leaning on the door?”

“Yes, I was leaning on the door, I was not, however, expecting it to be pulled out from under…behind me. You really know how to make an entrance. Did you forget something?” Daphne took a step back from Clint, no longer fully in his embrace, but not quite out of his reach, his hands still had a light hold on her arms.

“Well, yeah, I guess I did.” Clint felt himself flush once again in this woman’s presence. “I, I forgot to ask for your number.”

“My office number is on the syllabus, with my e-mail.”

“Oh.” Clint dropped his hands from her arms, slightly crestfallen.

“If I’m not in the office just leave a message or shoot me an e-mail, if you have any questions.” 

“Um, ok, thanks.” Clint had turned and started back down the steps when he felt a hand on his shoulder pull him back around.

“Will, why were you asking for my number?”

Clint was already two steps down so he and Daphne were almost eye to eye. She had beautiful eyes, such a dark brown, they were nearly black. How had he never noticed them before?

“I was thinking we could go for a real dinner sometime; you know a date. Maybe.” Did he just scuff his foot on the stairs, what was up with him? Where was his game?

“You mean like a date-date, a real date?” Daphne was still looking him straight in the eye, but hers had narrowed and she cocked her head to one side. She looked like she was trying to read him, figure out his intentions before he spoke. She definitely didn’t look receptive to the idea of a date with him.

“Yes. Like a real date. I’d pick you up, we’d go to dinner, have awkward silences and forced conversations. You know a date.”

“Do you not see an issue with asking someone on a date while you’re still covered with the love bites of your latest conquest?” She gave Clint a small, sarcastic smile.

Clint pulled up the zipper of his coat a bit higher. He hadn’t even considered that being an issue.

“I thought we were friends, Will.”

“We are friends. I thought there may be something more, though. I was wrong, I guess.”

“I don’t date anyway; my divorce isn’t even final yet. Do you want to hear more platitudes of it’s not you it’s me?”

“I’ll pass, thanks. Look, I really enjoyed my day with you, I don’t want to screw up what we have, but I want to see where this could go. Hell, we could go bowling or something if you don’t want to do dinner…what are you doing?”

Daphne had taken one of Clint’s hands in her own. She was running her fingers along the length, from wrist to fingertip. Feeling his hard earned callouses, the roughness of his hands a stark contrast to the smooth softness of her own.

“I thought you were an analyst.”

“Yeah, for the Department of Energy.”

“These are not the hands of a man who works in an office.”

“Do we have a touch of the ADHD?”

“Probably, that and maybe some OCD too.”

Clint laughed and wrapped Daphne’s hands in his. She may have turned him down for an official date, but he could tell she definitely found something about him intriguing, and he found her the same way. He needed to be careful with how he moved forward.

“Maybe my hobbies keep me from getting soft.”

“Oh. Woodworking?”

“Nope.”

“Farming?”

“Ha, not exactly enough space around here for a proper farm.”

“American Ninja Warrior?”

“Not quite.”

“Stable boy!”

“No, sorry, Buttercup.”

Daphne wrinkled her brow and pursed her lips; Clint could almost hear her thinking.

“Give up?”

“Yeah, I guess so. What’s your hobby?”

“Go on a real date with me and I’ll tell you.”

“That’s not exactly fair.”

“True, but you still have a choice. Live with the mystery or have dinner with me.”

“I don’t like unsolved mysteries.”

“Good. Dinner. Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 2. Wear something comfortable.”

“Wow, um, ok. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Just before releasing Daphne’s hands, he brought them up to his lips and brushed a light kiss across them. He had no idea what possessed him to do that, he wasn’t a romantic. If seduction was in the cards, it was feral and passionate, not sweet. He left her standing on the stairs, looking slightly dazed.

As Clint made his way back to where he parked his car, he pulled out his phone. He had some questions for his handler.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re early for your check in. Did you find something?”

“Hello to you too, Sir. I haven’t found anything as there is nothing to find. She never talks about her ex. She doesn’t want people to know she was married. It never comes up. If I get her wasted maybe she’ll talk about him, but it’s a long shot. She doesn’t tell anyone anything. She has no friends, no one to talk to, except for me. Why am I on this mission?”

“It is your assignment. That’s why.”

“Sir, the week before you sent me here, you told me I needed to get out and get a life. Then you send me on this mission, where my target is a normal, smart, beautiful woman…”

“Barton, if you are compromised, I’m bringing you in.”

“No, I’m not compromised. Did you send me on this mission to set me up, not set me up to get killed or something, but like on a date?”

“That’s it. I’m pulling you out.”

“No. I’m not compromised. It’d just be nice to know what I’m looking for and why.”

“If you are getting too close to the target, emotionally, I am pulling you. Use what little judgment you have and trust me on this one Barton.”

“Sir, what’s the end game here? Are we looking at target elimination?”

“I can neither confirm, nor deny, the possible strategized mission outcomes.”

“Shit.”

“Is there anything else, Agent?”

“Yeah, this is a bull shit mission.”


	7. Chapter 7

Daphne had torn apart her closet looking for something that fit the bill of ‘wear something comfortable’ that wasn’t pajamas or yoga pants. Which is why when Clint knocked on her door at exactly 2 o’clock she answered wearing her bath robe.

“I know I said to wear something comfortable, and you do look comfortable, I didn’t know I needed to specify to wear pants.”

“Do you have any idea how vague of a statement that is? ‘Wear something comfortable.’ Especially to a woman, does that mean a comfortable dress, a skirt, pants? What about a top? Does it mean bra optional? How comfortable are we talking here? What are you wearing?”

Clint had arrived wearing motorcycle boots, jeans and a long-sleeved Henley, with an unbuttoned flannel over top, he carried his leather jacket in his hand.

“Do I pass inspection?” He asked as Daphne eyeballed his outfit.

“Shut up. Give me five minutes, I’ll go get dressed.”

“That only took you three and a half minutes.” Clint said lounging against the entryway table.

“Having a point of reference helps. Do _I_ pass inspection, Mr. Cross?”

Clint looked Daphne up and down, trying to mimic the expression she had on early when she gave him her once over. She hadn’t copied him exactly, but had definitely dressed to match. Chucks instead of boots, jeans that hugged her curves perfectly, tank top with a flannel, and what appeared to be an old army field jacket.

“Yes ma’am, you most certainly do. Where’d you get the jacket? Did you serve?”

“Ha. No. Like the military could handle me. I got it in a second-hand shop.” Daphne pushed Clint out of her apartment and locked the door behind them. “Where are we off to?”

“To show you my hobbies…and then dinner and a show.”

Daphne commandeered the radio and put on a classic rock station for the drive. Clint was enjoying watching her sing and dance in the passenger seat, and joined for a few. They were singing to some good ol’ Proud Mary when Clint turned off the highway.

“Big wheels keep on…are we here?”

“Yes, ma’am”

“Is this a gun range?”

“No. It’s an archery range.”

“Archery? That’s your hobby? You’re Robin Hood…do you wear tights?”

“If, and only if, they are tight tights.” Clint winked at Daphne, got out of the car and went to the trunk.

“Why do you have two bows?”

“This one,” Clint held up a sleek, black bow, “is mine…the one I’m going to use…technically, they’re both mine. It’s a recurve, with a draw of…a draw that you probably wouldn’t be able to pull.” Clint reached in the trunk and pulled out the second one. “This is a standard long bow, it’s a bit heavier, but there’s less of a chance of the arrow shooting sideways.”

“Are you saying I could shank the arrow; like I do with the ball when I golf?”

“You golf?”

“Sort of. I’ve golfed, three or four times. I gave up after I somehow hit myself in the head with the ball.”

Clint started at Daphne, stunned silent for a moment. ““You hit yourself in the head with a golf ball…of course you did.” Clint ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up in all directions. “Did you hit it into the trees and it bounced back?” Clint asked, hopefully.

“Noooo. I was teeing off, I hit the ball, I thought it went super far…since I couldn’t see it anymore. Then it hit me in the head, like right on top. It must have gone straight up into the air and come right back down. I must have really got under it.”

“Archery may have been a bad idea. How are you at bowling? Ever throw the ball backwards?”

Daphne stuck her tongue out at Clint and walked towards the picnic benches behind the line.

“That wasn’t a no.” Clint called after her as he grabbed the bows and his quiver.

Clint put the bows and quiver on the bench Daphne had claimed. “Few safety things before we get started.”

“You really know how to show a girl a good time Will. Mock her sporting abilities and then give a safety lecture. It’s a wonder you’re single.”

“Take off your jacket and give me your arm. You’re left arm, unless you’re left-handed, or left-eyed. Which is unlikely.” Daphne quickly retracted her right arm and held out her left. “This is a bracer; it will protect your arm from getting hit with or irritated by the string.”

“It’s not just some leather fetish accessory? Learned something new.”

“What I do on weekends and on my own time is my business, lady.”

Daphne giggled and scrunched up her nose as Clint strapped the bracer to her arm. He took of his own coat and flannel and strapped on his own bracer. He, in fact, was a lefty.

“The bows may be different, but the mechanics and how to stand and hold them are roughly the same. Watch what I do.” Clint strapped on the quiver and picked up his recurve. He walked to the line, drew an arrow, pulled back and let loose. “Did you see the stance and how I held the arrow?” Clint looked over at Daphne, her eyes were wide and mouth slightly agape. “Daphne? Helloooo…Daphne?”

“Yeah, hi, I’m here.” 

“Would you like to try?”

“Yes. But you may want to go sit in the car. I make no promises as to where the arrow may or may not end up.”

“Grab the long bow and come here.”

“Can’t I try that one.”

“This one? Sure. Hold it like I did and see if you can draw the string back.”

Daphne took the bow from Clint and held it out like he had. Clint tried his best not to laugh as she tried to draw the bow. He had to admit, she did a lot better than he had been expecting, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

“That explains that.” Daphne said handing the recurve back to Clint.

“Explains what?”

“Why your shirts don’t fit. They’re too tight in the arms.”

“This does take a lot of upper body strength. And, thanks, I think.”

Daphne grabbed the long bow and stepped to the line. “Is this right?”

“Not even close, Daph. You have to stand sideways and hold the bow straight.”

“Huh?”

“First, relax. It’s nearly impossible to shoot yourself with one of these.” Clint stood behind Daphne and put his hands on her hips. He pushed on the left and pulled on the right until she was perpendicular to the target. “Now, raise the bow up so you’re looking just above where you are going to rest the arrow. Look right here, where my finger is.” Daphne did as Clint said, her positioning was good, now she just needed to nock the arrow. “The arrow nocks…attaches here, there’s no arrow rest on this bow, so rest it on your index finger, but make sure to drop your finger when you draw back. These aren’t the sharpest arrows, but I don’t want you getting hurt. Put this finger over the arrow back here, not on the feathers, and put these two below, this is a split grip. Pull the string back…drop your finger! Excellent. Keep your elbow down, you want to be as straight as you can. Point the tip where you want to go…and let go.”

Daphne released her arrow, it fell way short of the target.

“Owwwww. And that explains the callouses. Katniss made this seem so much easier.”

“You did good, it went super straight, you just have to draw back farther for more distance.”

Daphne shot a few more with Clint’s guidance, and did a few on her own, she hit the target twice, well South of a bullseye. After her eighth shot, she went and sat down at the picnic table telling Clint she needed a break.

“Do you mind if I shoot a bit longer? It’s been a while since I’ve been able to get to the range. Or, we can go if you want.”

“Keep shooting, this is fun. I just want to be able to feel my arms in the morning. Carry on though, I like watching you.”

Daphne watched as Clint peppered the target with arrows. He did not miss once. Clint was in his happy place, quiver on his back, bow in hand, the steady rhythm of nock, draw, loose, this was how he found peace.

Clint’s quiver was empty. That’s when he remembered Daphne, she was still sitting on the picnic table, he had completely forgotten about her. “Shit, Daphne. I’m sorry. I was completely ignoring you.”

“I don’t mind. You looked so focused and relaxed. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Still kind of rude.”

“I’ll survive. You put on good show.”

“Next time I’ll show you some trick shots.”

“Really? Like what?”

“Not sure yet. I will definitely think of something. I’ll go grab the arrows and then we can go for dinner.”

Daphne hopped off the bench and caught up to Clint as he made is way down the range. “I’ll help you. Or at least I’ll try to help. This thing is really in there.” Daphne had walked up to one of the targets that Clint had hit and was pulling on the arrow, but it would not budge.

“Twist and pull, might be easier.”

Daphne pulled and twisted, and promptly fell on her butt as the arrow released from the target. “Don’t you even start Will Cross.” Daphne said from the ground, glairing up at him.

Clint was doubled over with laughter, tears running down his face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…but that was probably the funniest thing I’ve seen in my life.” He straightened up and offered his hand. “Are you okay?” He asked as she pulled her up.

“I think I broke my ass.” Daphne handed Clint his arrow and brushed off the seat of her jeans. “What’s for dinner?”

“Do you still trust me?”


	8. Chapter 8

“Will, this isn’t a restaurant. This is a sketchy as fuck alleyway. Are you going to murder me? Or, are we buying meth? I’m really not down for either of those options.” Daphne looked up at Clint batting her eyelashes. She had tucked herself under Clint’s arm when he turned them down the alleyway.

Clint rolled his eyes and rapped his knuckles on the door he had stopped in front of. A small window slid open and a pair of dark eyes stared out at him. “The Ripper prowls tonight.” Clint said to the pair of eyes. The window snapped shut and the door opened.

Clint pushed Daphne in front of him and into the building. The moment the door closed behind him she grabbed his hand in a vice like grip. He leaned down and whispered into her ear “relax.” Her grip slightly loosened, but not by much. Deciding he wanted to keep his fingers, Clint pulled his hand away and tucked Daphne into his side again as they followed the bouncer down the maze of hallways.

He could get used to this, he thought. Having a woman by his side, one who wanted to be brave and try new things, but still needed him. He liked the protective streak she brought out in him. When he did date it was usually women from work and they would die before showing weakness. He liked how she wasn’t afraid to show how smart she was, he loved her sass and smart mouth. Maybe he was compromised, getting this close to his target. But if he pulled himself out, if he was extracted, he would never see her again. It wasn’t like he could come clean and tell her who he really was…or could he?

As they continued into to the bowels of the building Clint kept thinking about what would or could happen if he told Daphne who he really was and why he was there. It would be a quicker way to get the information from her, if he just straight up asked for it, she could just give him the answers and they’d be done with it. Or, there was the chance she didn’t feel the same way about him; she had been hesitant to go out with him. What if he came clean and she refuse to ever speak to or see him again? Then he wouldn’t get the girl, blow the mission and probably get shipped off to some terrible outpost in the middle of fucking nowhere.

They pushed through a curtain at the end of the next hallway and followed the bouncer into a dimly lit room full of people seated at small round tables arranged around a stage in the middle of the room. It wasn’t quite in the room, but it wasn’t loud either. No one was speaking louder than a whisper; it was like being in a funeral home. The bouncer brought them to their table, and left them without a word.

“Will, where the hell are we? This is so creepy.” She had wrapped an arm around his waist and was as close to him as she could get without sharing his clothes.

“Trust me.” He disengaged himself from her grasp, took her coat and pulled out her chair. Clint shrugged out of his jacked and threw both on a spare chair before taking his seat next to Daphne.

A server dressed in Victorian clothing dropped a bottle and two glasses at their table, again not saying a word.

“Did you order this?”

Clint shuffled his chair over so he was right next to Daphne, draped an arm across the back of her chair and spoke low into her ear. “You don’t order here. You get what they give you.”

“What is your aversion to menus?” Daphne whispered back.

“I don’t hate menus; I like going places where I know I’ll enjoy what they have.” Clint reached over and grabbed the bottle the server had placed on their table. He poured out a bit into one of the glasses, sniffed it and tasted it. “I have no idea what this is, though.”

Daphne took Clint’s glass, sniffed and tasted it herself. “It’s Chartreuse.”

“The color? They’ve distilled colors now?”

“No, you weirdo. I am kind of impressed you know that’s a color. Chartreuse is a French herbal liqueur developed by the Carthusian monks in the 17th or 18th century. It’s rumored to be made with over 130 different herbs. The color is named after this drink.”

“Is there anything you don’t know?” Clint asked as he brushed her hair back from her face.

“I still don’t know where we are.”

“You’re about to find out.”

The lights had dimmed lower, muted spotlights danced across the closed curtains of the stage. The whispering and murmuring of the crowd ceased. A pale man dressed in velvet and lace, coat and tails, walked through the tables, and approached the stage. The curtains drew back as he got closer, the man climbed the stairs and strode to the middle of the stage. The soft lights centered on him and he spoke, his voice carrying, even without a microphone. “Ladies and Gentlemen, I most graciously welcome you to the Dead Man’s Circus.”

Daphne looked at Clint, but said nothing. Her eyes were wide with anticipation and excitement. He wasn’t thinking when he leaned forward and kissed her softly before turning to the stage.

~~~~~~~~~

“That was absolutely amazing.” Daphne said as she got into Clint’s car. Neither of them had said anything since the show had ended. They had walked out in silence arms around each other’s waist. “And the food, holy shit! I don’t even know what I was eating but it was fantastic!”

“Boar, I think. Wild boar.” Clint hadn’t been able to concentrate on the show. He knew the acts were good, he had developed a few of them himself a couple of lifetimes ago. With Daphne sitting so close, leaning into him, squeezing his arm or thigh when a stunt startled her, his mind would not stay focused. He needed to make a decision, and fast.

They fell into an easy silence as Clint drove back towards Arlington. Clint had yet to make a decision and he was already pulling up in front of Daphne’s building.

Daphne removed her seatbelt and turned in her seat to face Clint. “I know we billed this as a date, and I had an amazing time…” Daphne looked down at her hands, she was twisting them together nervously. “Will, I…”

“Don’t want to invite me in.” Clint finished for her.

“Believe me, it’s not that I don’t want to, I’m don’t think I’m ready to, and I don’t want to screw this up.”

“Neither do I.” Clint got out of the car, walked around and opened Daphne’s door. “I’ll at least walk you up.” Daphne took Clint’s outstretched hand and they climbed the stoop together.

“I don’t know how long it’s going to take me to be in a place where I can _be_ with someone.” Daphne had thrown air quotes around ‘be’.

“He really did a number on you, didn’t he?” Daphne merely nodded. “You can talk to me about it, if you want.”

“I really can’t, Will.”

“In two days, you’re completely free of him. You can burn him in effigy, curse him to the high heavens, leave a burning bag of dog shit on his doorstep. I’ll even help you if you want.”

“Please don’t feel obligated to stick around.”

“Trust me, I don’t.” Clint wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “I am, however, obligated to kiss you now.” Clint bent his head and gently pressed his lips against hers. He had not been expecting for her to throw her arms around his neck, pull herself against him and kiss him back with such force.

Clint pulled away panting, and audibly swallowed. “Good God, woman.” 

“Sorry, not sorry.” Daphne said with a big smile. “Thank you for a great day.” She reached up, gave him a quick, chaste peck and went into her building.

Clint slowly walked down the steps, feeling dazed. He plopped into the driver’s seat of his car and as he scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair, all he could think of was how fully, truly, and royally fucked he was.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next day Clint did his best to avoid thinking about Daphne. He cleaned his apartment, did laundry, went to the gym. But it wasn’t working; everyplace he went something reminded him of her, a scent, a song, it was hopeless.

He had to refocus himself, adjust his mind set so she was the mission target, nothing more. He sunk onto his couch with a beer and her file. Maybe looking at her from SHIELD’s perspective would help. He wasn’t one to overly prepare for a mission, so had only skimmed her file, now he was going to hunker down and read the damn thing cover to cover.


	9. Chapter 9

Daphne stuck her head out of the bathroom, into the hallway, not sure if she had heard a knock on the door, or if it was something else. Nope, it was definitely a knock. She put down her eyeliner, wracking her brain as to who would be at her place. 

“Will! How did you get in my building?”

“The little old lady on the first floor let me in, I think she was going shopping. When you have flowers and champagne, you can get in anywhere.”

“Why do you have flowers and champagne?” “Why are you so fancy?”

“HAPPY DIVORCE DAY!” “I have court.”

“Hang on, hang on, one of us at a time. Why do you have flowers and champagne?”

“Like I said…HAPPY DIVORCE DAY! I thought we could celebrate.” Clint had woken stupid early in the morning with the sudden realization that it was March 4 and Daphne was going to be alone. Even though it conflicted with his finish the mission plan, he couldn’t let her be alone on this day of all days.

“You are so sweet. But I can’t, I have to go to court to finalize some paperwork.”

“And you’re wearing that?”

“What’s wrong with this? I was going for demure and sophisticated.”

“You landed somewhere around sexy librarian…but I may be biased.”

“Meh, fuck it. I look good.”

“Yes, you do.” Clint put his gifts on the table in the entryway, grabbed Daphne by the waist and reached down to kiss her, but stopped just short. Finish the mission. “I’ll drive.”

“It a closed-door hearing, you won’t be allowed in.” Daphne said wrapping her arms around his neck.

“I’ll wait in the lobby.”

“Will, I have no idea what kind of mood I’m going to be in after this is done. I may not be the best company today.”

“And that’s the other reason I wanted to be here. Support you if you needed it.”

Daphne stood up on her tip toes and completed the kiss. “Will Cross…you are the best people. I need to finish my face and grab my shoes.”

“Not those shoes.” Clint said as Daphne came back into the entryway.

“What’s wrong with these ones?”

“Way too sexy. Do you have kitten heels or flats?”

“How in the ever-living fuck do you know what a kitten heel is?”

“I know things.” Clint shrugged. “You know what? Keep the sexy shoes. Show that asshole what he’s missing.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why is this a closed-door hearing?” Clint asked as he drove towards the courthouse.

“Because of who my ex is, they don’t want the media getting a hold of this story. I don’t even know if he’ll show up, he may just send his lawyer.”

“I’ll beat his ass for you if you want.”

“ummmmmmm...no. I don’t want you getting in trouble. I appreciate the offer.” Daphne said smiling at Clint. “You can drop me off right here.”

“I’m not dropping you off. I’ll come in, lurk in the lobby.”

Clint followed Daphne into the courthouse and camped out on one of the benches in the hallway. This was a great time for him to sit and think. The building was quiet, boring as all hell, and pretty safe. They had gone through double metal detectors before being able to enter. It was somewhat reassuring, that his weapons and the ones on the guards were the only ones in the building.

He’d gone of script so many times with her, told her he was from Iowa, worked for the government, showed her that he was an archer. But what did that mean? Was he losing his skills as an undercover operative, he doubted it, she didn’t seem suspicious of him at all. The only other option was he wanted to open up to her, he wanted to know her and he wanted her to know him. Clint had to pull himself out. He had to get away before he got any closer, before he hurt her.

But then again, honesty was an approach he had never tried before. If he did tell her he was a plant, sent to spy on her, he wondered if he could spin it in a way that wouldn’t seem like an extreme violation of privacy and trust. Then he’d get fired, and get to experience whatever the SHEILD equivalent of a court-martial is.

Clint was unsure how long he sat on the bench, his thoughts circling, going between extrication and coming clean when someone kicked him in the ankle. “Shit. Daphne. You startled me.” He was slipping, no one ever got the drop on him, and now the woman he was spying on snuck up on him. “Hey, have you been crying?”

“Just a bit.”

“Having regrets…second thoughts?” Clint stood up and pulled Daphne into his arms, hoping she did not answer in the affirmative.

“No. He was there. And still the worst person I know.”

“My offer to kick his ass still stands.”

“I just want to go home.”

“Are we going to need more booze? I only brought the one bottle.”

“I just want to lay down and do nothing. You do not have to stay with me. It would probably be better if you didn’t stay. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“Daphne, I’m not going to let you be alone today. If you don’t want me close, I’ll hang out on the balcony, but I’m not ditching you.” Clint squeezed her tighter against him as a group of suits left the court room that Daphne had gone into earlier. He gave each face a hard look, seeing if he recognized any of them.

“He’s not with them. He went out a side door.” Daphne said seeing what Clint was up to. “Those are his lawyers and advisors.”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

~~~~~~~

Clint walked Daphne up to her apartment, “I’m going to run out and grab a few things. Is there anything you need or want?”

“Chocolate and probably more tissues.”

“Ok. I’ll be right back.” Clint had gone about halfway down the hall when Daphne called his name. She had stuck her head out the door to her apartment.

“Will! Take my keys.”

“You’re giving me a key?”

“I’m letting you borrow my keys. Once I lie down, I’m not getting back up, you can let yourself back in. It’s not like you’re going to copy it and break in when I’m not here, right?”

“No, of course not. I’ll be back in a bit.” He didn’t need keys to break in anyway. He had already scoped the locks, 18 seconds, tops, and he’d be in.

It didn’t take him long to run down to the corner shop and grab some make your quasi-girlfriend, SHIELD target feel better supplies.

“Daphne, I’m back. Where are you?” She wasn’t in the kitchen or living room.

“Bedroom.”

Clint shopped short. He was half in the fridge throwing in the beer and ice cream he had picked up. The chocolate and wine he had left on the counter for ease of access. Bedroom. What was she doing in there? Was she expecting something from him? Time to man up. He poked around under the sink, found a vase for the flowers he brought earlier, grabbed the champagne and a pair of glasses and made his way to the bedroom.

“Made yourself comfortable, huh?”

Daphne had changed out of the pencil skirt, blouse and blazer combo she had been wearing and was now sitting in the middle of her bed, wrapped in the duvet, surrounded by pillows, wearing the cutest pajamas he’d ever seen.

“Are there ducks on your pajamas?

“Yes.” 

Daphne threw a pillow at Clint. “Hey, no throwing things at me when my hands are full.”

“Then don’t make fun of my pajamas.”

“I wasn’t. They’re super cute.”

“Are you just going to stand there? Or are you going to join me?”

“Daph, I don’t think this is the right time for us to…”

“Ugh. Not like that.” She threw another pillow. “You said you’d keep me company.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” He put down the champagne, glasses on the nightstand, and flowers on the dresser. “What kind of t.v. is this?” He asked looking at the black screen on the dresser.

“It’s my old computer monitor, I hooked it up to the DVD player. For days I’m too lazy to make it to the couch.”

“Ah. Soooo, you want me to hop on in there with you?”

“If you’re not comfortable with it, never mind, we can go sit on the couch.”

“No. No. Just making sure. I went through the student orientation bullshit; consent is sexy and all that.” 

Daphne laughed and flipped the duvet down and patted the bed next to her.

“If I had known we were having comfy cuddle time, I would have brought my super cute pajamas too.”

“I think…yeah…there’s probably some pajama pants in the bottom drawer that may fit you.”

“Do they have ducks on them?”

“No. They were…um…they were…they were his. I used to wear them, but I haven’t for a long time. And then I couldn’t get rid of them since they’re still in good condition, and…”

“Hey. You don’t need to justify yourself. Good pajamas are hard to come by. Mind if I take a look?” Daphne waved him towards the dresser. Clint rummaged in the bottom drawer, looking for the pajama pants. “These ones?” Clint pulled out a pair of flowered yoga pants. “No? Not these? You don’t think I’d look good in these? You don’t have to laugh quite so hard.” Clint closed the drawer with a pair of plaid flannel pants in hand that looked like they would fit. “I’m gonna’ go change in the bathroom.”


	10. Chapter 10

A few moments later Clint walked back in having changed out of his yuppie khakis and sweater. Pajama pants and a t-shirt were so much more his style, and he could see why she didn’t get rid of the pants. They were very comfortable. He grabbed the bottle off the dresser and popped the top.

“Champagne, my lady?’

“Yes, please.”

Clint poured each of them a glass and settled in next to Daphne. “Happy divorce day.”

“Cheers.”

“Alright. Are we doing tear jerkers, romantic comedies, regular comedies, action, horror, or Christmas movies?”

“Christmas movies? It’s March.”

“It was the only other genre I could think of.”

“Just pick something, Will.” Daphne took a sip of her champagne. “This is good.”

“Good. I got it at the gas station.” Daphne hit him with a pillow. “Woman, you are not ready for a pillow fight with me. You have a lot of pillows.” Clint shifted around so he had half of the pillows on his side, just in case. “How about Forgetting Sarah Marshall?” He asked flipping through the stack of DVD’s next to the bed. “It’s a breakup movie with a happy ending.”

“I love Russel Brand.”

“Do you want to start with Get Him to the Greek?”

“I don’t care Will.”

Clint started the movie and snuggled up against Daphne. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Jason Segel does the music for the t.v. show his girlfriend is in, but he doesn’t know that his girlfriend is porking Aldous Snow, so he…owwww.”

Clint had grabbed one of his pillows and smacked Daphne in the face with it. “I know what the movie is about. Do you want to talk about what happened today?”

Daphne blew out a heavy breath. “He was there. As part of the proceedings, he was given…we were both given the chance to say why we were apart or give reason to get back together.”

“That was allowed?”

“My lawyer sucked. But yeah. He went first and said wonderful things and that he still loved me. I said there was no way I’d ever get back with him and gave all my reasons why. Then he called me every bad name he could think of, said I was useless, everything I have is because people feel bad for me, I can’t do anything on my own. All the shit that I think about myself, but don’t want to be true.”

Daphne was mumbling into her glass by the time she finished, tears running down her face. Clint took the glass from her, reached over and cupped her face with his free hand.

“You know you are none of those things, none of that is true. No one feels bad for you, remember, your colleagues hate you…which is completely different.” Clint quickly added, seeing the look on Daphne’s face. “That makes me think they’re jealous. If they felt bad for you, they’d probably treat you better and patronize you. You’re most certainly not useless or unable to do anything on your own. You take care of all of your students, you’re brave and try new things, you’re smart…no, you’re not smart, you’re a fucking genius. Anyone who thinks anything less is a piece of shit who isn’t good enough for you.”

“Wow. I didn’t think I made that much of an impression on you.”

“I wasn’t expecting it either. But here we are.” Clint snuggled closer to Daphne nuzzling his face into her neck.

“Can I ask you something?” Daphne asked, running her hands through his hair.

“Of course.”

“Why isn’t there any one significant in your life?”

“Um…shit…I don’t know. I’ve dated, I just haven’t found anyone who I want to stick around for. And work gets in the way a lot. It’s hard having a real relationship when I’m sent all across the globe on the regular.”

“Doing what? Why would the Department of Energy need to send you places?”

And he fucked up again. “It’s complicated. Mergers of oil and gas stuff in different countries.” Clint shook his head, maybe this was the time to come clean.

“Well at least you work for Energy and not SHIELD…or…the Defense Department.”

Daphne had said SHIELD, fuck, she said SHIELD. Why did she have to say that? He was so close to telling her who he was, and now he couldn’t. Now he had to find out what she knew about SHIELD. He sat up, and refilled her glass.

“What’s SHIELD?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Really? Nothing? Then why are you bright red and not looking at me?”

“It’s one of the things I’m not supposed to talk about.”

“I respect your right to privacy, and I know we don’t know each other all that well…but it is so fucked up that you can’t or won’t talk about anything related to your ex. Have you ever talked about it, to anyone? How are you going to…heal?” Clint knew if he wasn’t before, he was now most certainly on the fast track to hell. Trying to guilt her into revealing information. Finish the mission, beg for forgiveness.

“I’m not really sure what SHIELD is, it’s one of those things that I kind of heard about, but he wouldn’t talk about. I googled it once it’s some sort of homeland defense organization. There wasn’t much on it, so I think it might be kind of CIA-ish. Which, I suppose makes sense, hire the assholes who look good on camera but are fuckups in every other part of their life and hate everyone and everything and hurt their wives.”

“This stuff makes you chatty. Good to know.” Clint picked up the bottle of champagne to pour Daphne another drink, the bottle was almost empty and he was on still his first glass. “Hang on, what do you mean hurt their wives.”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Daphne. Tell me.”

“He broke my heart, it hurt. A lot.”

“I don’t believe you. No. I believe he broke your heart, but there is more that you’re not telling me. Here.” He handed her a tissue of the night stand. “What do you need?”

“My independence. To matter. Not to be afraid. Some chocolate, if there is any.” She looked up at him hopefully.

“Yes, there’s chocolate. I know how to take care of my woman.”

Clint went to the kitchen, in addition to the chocolate, he also grabbed one of the bottles of wine he had picked up. He was a terrible, horrible man. The woman he thought he was falling for, the one he had just called his woman, was laying in her bed, half drunk, waiting for him…and he was going to plie her with more alcohol and pump her for information.

“Gee, Will. Are you trying to get me drunk?” Daphne asked as he walked back into the room.

“You’re doing just fine on your own. I am just a lowly delivery man.” Will poured Daphne and himself some of the wine. “Tell me more about your now ex-husband.”

“There’s nothing else to tell.”

“Come on, sweetheart. Tell me everything. I want to know everything.”

“I’ve never talked to anyone about this. I’ve told you I’m not allowed to. You probably already know too much.”

“And what happens if someone finds out you told me?”

“I signed a non-disclosure agreement.”

“About your marriage?”

Daphne drained her glass and rolled over onto her side, throwing her arm around Clint’s waist, wrapping one of her legs around his. “Yup. A little man in a sharp suit, made me sign it on the day before my wedding.”

“Were you married to the president or something?”

“No, just an American icon.” Daphne pulled herself up so she was face to face with Clint. “Why do you care so much?”

“I want you to be happy.” Not even a lie, maybe if he told her some truths it would balance out the lies.

“Will you stay with me tonight?”

“I’ll be here as long as you want me.” Clint asked, noting that the wine bottle was almost empty. “Do I need to find a bucket?”

“Nah, I’m good. I can hold my liquor.”

“Okay. Go to sleep. I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

Daphne pulled herself up against him. Her hand sliding up under his shirt. “Will…”

“mmmm…yes?” Will adjusted himself so Daphne was laying against his side, her head on his chest. He hadn’t been this comfortable since…since ever.

“This has been the weirdest and best spring break…whooo.”

~~~~~~

It was only seven in the evening. Daphne may have been able to fall asleep, or pass out Clint supposed, but there was no way he was going to be able to fall asleep. He did have the ability to fall asleep anywhere and at any time day or night, it was a spy thing. He was far too keyed up. Laying here with her was different, he felt so guilty, he was betraying her trust in him. He was in this bed under false pretenses; which he usually didn’t give a shit about, he got a lot of women into bed with half-truths. If it was any other woman, any other target, he’d leave and deal with the blow back later. He promised her he would stay, there’s no way he would break such a simple, important promise, not to her.

Clint slid out from underneath of Daphne, making sure she stayed covered and warm. He went to the kitchen grabbed a beer and walked around her apartment. There was a desk tucked into a corner with one of those plants from the seventies hanging above it…macramé. Why the hell did he know what macramé was? He sat in the chair and turned on her computer, he figured he could at least do a quick search of the place.

Fuck. What was wrong with him? Once second, he was acting like an Agent, the next like a love sick teenager. 

Finish the mission. 

The computer was password protected and he wasn’t in the right headspace to try and figure out her password. She was so smart it’d probably be something ridiculously difficult anyway. He took a pull of his beer and started rummaging through the desk drawers.

There wasn’t much, some old bills and warranty stuff for her appliances, insurance paperwork, pay stubs…she made a lot of money, damn, some pictures of what he guessed were her family, gone now. There wasn’t anything else, no letters or cards from friends, nothing connecting her to the life she was living.

She was just as alone as he was. Work was the only thing keeping them where they were. Clint had run away from a life that wasn’t working for him before, he could do it again. But could he convince Daphne to go with him.

~~~~~~~~

Clint woke before Daphne. He had crawled in next to her sometime after midnight and sixth beer. She was still fast asleep, curled to his side. He gently untangled himself, doing his best not to wake her. He made his way to the bathroom took care of some business, found the Tylenol and a cup in the medicine cabinet, filled it with water and went back into the bedroom. Daphne was still sleeping; she had rolled into the middle of the bed and curled into a ball. It was adorable and heartbreaking all at once. Clint left the Tylenol and water on the nightstand. He collected the empty bottles and drink glasses from the night before and went to the kitchen.

“Good morning.” A quiet voice behind him said a while later.

“Did I wake you?”

“No, I woke up about an hour ago, then fell back asleep. Thank you for getting the Tylenol and water for me. What are you doing?” Daphne walked up behind Clint and slid her arms around his waist, peering around his shoulder.

“Trying to make breakfast.”

“I didn’t think I had any breakfast foods.”

“You don’t. I thought I could bull shit something, but I failed miserably.” Clint looked down at his attempt to make pancakes without eggs or baking powder, shrugged and threw the lot into the sink. He spun around, capturing Daphne against him. “How about I take you for breakfast. And then maybe a grocery store, you have no food.”

“It’s too much of a bother to cook for one. I’m a great cook when I have someone to cook for.”

“Yeah? Prove it.”

“Is that your way of inviting yourself to dinner tonight?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“It’s Saturday, right? The market gets really good, really fresh meat on Saturday’s. What do you want? A steak, ribs…oh, how about a roast? I haven’t done a roast in forever.”

“I will get down on one knee right now if you make me a roast beef dinner.”

“That’s unnecessary.” Daphne said, her body shaking as she held in a laugh. “I owe you so much. I can at least make you dinner.”

“I still feel like I’m coming out ahead in all of this.”

“Why don’t you go home, get cleaned up, come back anytime and I’ll run to the market and get dinner fixin’s.”

“No breakfast?”

“It’s almost noon.”

“No brunch?”

“Ok. Fine. Brunch.”


	11. Chapter 11

A few hours later Clint found himself back in his own shitty apartment. He had showered, shaved and was debating with himself if he should pack an overnight bag or not. Deciding it was better to be prepared, and not wanting to wear her ex-husbands clothing again, he threw a bag together. He was in the bathroom tossing in his razor, when his eyes landed on his box of condoms. God, he wanted her. He knew if he packed them, there would be nothing stopping him, unless she said no. But if she didn’t say no…no, he couldn’t let his thoughts drift there.

Finish the mission.

Daphne had given him her spare keys; he now had his own set of keys to her apartment; no one had ever given him a set of keys before. Daphne said that way if she was elbow deep in meat, he could let himself in. At least that’s the reasoning she gave him, before blushing furiously. Clint let himself into her apartment and was hit by the most amazing thing he had ever smelled.

“What the hell are you making? It smells amazing.” Clint dropped his bag in the hallway and let his nose guide him into the kitchen.

“Hey! You’re back. I made dessert.”

“I thought you were going to be dessert.”

“Will!”

“That was corny, and a bit forward, huh? But you didn’t have to throw flour at me.” Clint puffed; his face dusted white.

“I made a pie.”

“What kind of pie?”

“Pecan, bourbon, and brown butter.”

“I gotta’ go again, I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“To buy you a ring. Fuck off with the flour!” Clint grabbed her hands and shook his head over her, sending a cloud of flour over the both of them. “Seriously though, you made a pie?”

“Mmmmm-hmmmm, for dessert. For dinner, we’re having a roast, with mashed potatoes, carrots, green beans, Yorkshire pudding, and gravy.” Daphne couldn’t get her hands out of Clint’s grasp, so she settled for going up on tiptoe and kissing him. “I told you I’m a good cook, now, let me go so I can finish dinner.”

Clint left Daphne in the kitchen and brought his bag to the bedroom. The bed hadn’t been made, so he took a few minutes to make it, trying to center himself.

“Anything I can do to help?” Clint asked making his way back to the kitchen.

“You could set the table.”

“That I can do. Is there still one of the bottles of wine from yesterday? Or did we finish them all off?”

“There’s a bottle of red on top of the fridge.”

Clint grabbed the wine, plates and flatware and went about setting the small dining table.

“Will? Can you help me?”

“Yeah, Daph, what do you need?”

“Help me bring this stuff out.”

Clint and Daphne brought out the meal she had prepared and settled in for an amazing dinner.

“Tell me about your family.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Come on. We’ve spent so much time together, but we’ve never really talked much.”

Daphne chewed for a bit. “Huh. We really haven’t. I grew up in Vermont, I had a Mom and Dad and an older brother. They died when I was a kid.”

Clint already knew all of her backstory as he actually had read her entire file, first time he had ever read a SHIELD file front to back. They talked about Daphne’s life. Going through her years in university, skipping quickly over her marriage, finishing with her career at the Smithsonian.

“You really didn’t go to high school?”

“Nope. I was fast tracked after grade seven. It’d probably make a great television program. What about you? I feel like I’ve been talking about myself too much.”

“From Iowa. Orphaned when I was eight or nine, I have an older brother somewhere, but I haven’t seen him in twenty years or so.”

“Bull shit, you’re copying me.”

“No. I’m serious. My mom and dad were killed by a drunk driver, well my dad was driving drunk and killed them. Barney, my older brother…” Fuck, he’d used a real name, and given real, honest, truthful, personal information. “He and I went into foster care.”

“I was in the system too, kinda’ didn’t want to tell you.” Daphne blushed as she took a sip of her wine. “I went to University and got emancipated, got out of the system.”

“I got out by running away.”

“Where did you go?”

“Circus.”

“Fuck off.”

“Seriously, ran away and joined the circus.”

“That seems like it would have been a lot more fun than university.”

“It had its ups and downs.”

“Circus pun?”

“A bit. I did do some high wire work.”

“Who are you Will Cross?”

Finish the mission. “I could ask you the same question.”

“The most exciting thing I ever did was some musical theater.”

Clint choked on his wine. “Musical theater?”

“Yes, I played Satine in the Yale, no theater or art majors allowed, production of Moulin Rouge. I did pretty awesome, if you must know.”

“You can sing and dance?”

“Very well actually.”

“I am going to take you dancing.”

“You can dance?”

“Very well actually,” Clint answered mocking Daphne’s tone. Clint did know how to dance, he had to learn for a mission a while back and had to admit he was pretty damn good. “Are you done?”

“Yeah. Leave those.” Clint had started to gather up the dirty dishes, “you’re my guest, I’ll clean these up and get the pie.”

As Daphne cleared the table, Clint went to the stereo.

“What are you doing Will?”

“Come here.” Clint motioned to Daphne, waving her to him. “Put the pie down and come here.”

“We’re not dancing in my living room.”

“We most certainly are. Unfortunately, I could not find a tango.”

“This may be the most romantic thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

“Well, you’re young. Although, this may be the most romantic thing _I’ve_ ever initiated.”

They danced in Daphne’s living room, Clint twirled and dipped her, leading her around the coffee table. They lost their rhythm on the third circuit when they dropped the formal dance poses and adopted high school dance posture, arms wrapped around each other and spun in place.

Clint wasn’t sure who initiated the kiss, but it was different than the other times. They had stopped spinning, just holding each other, they connected. It started soft, Clint’s hands on Daphne’s waist, her arms around his neck. And then Daphne moaned, that was Clint’s undoing. He slid his hands lower, skimming over the curves of her body. Not breaking their kiss, he put his hands under her and lifted her, Daphne wrapped her legs around his waist and scratched through the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

Bedroom. He needed to take her to the bedroom.

No. Finish the mission.

Torn between going to the bedroom and not going anywhere Clint tripped over his own feet and landed them on the sofa. It was probably the best outcome, seeing as they barely missed the coffee table and didn’t land on the floor.

“Smooth.” Daphne laughed.

“Wasn’t even trying.” He murmured against her lips. He sat them up so Daphne was straddling him. Clint cupped her face and pulled her down to him again. This may have been the most perfect moment of Clint’s life. Beautiful woman in is arms, hell, in his lap; a woman he connected with, not just a fling. She was soft in his arms, smelled of pecan pie, who knew pie could be such an erotic scent.

Daphne broke their kiss, pulled back and looked at him. She looked like there was something she wanted to say, but just smiled and moved back in to kiss along his neck. Clint dropped his head back, resting it on the back of the sofa, giving her access to his second most favorite places to be kissed.

“Wait, Daphne.” Clint had to get his thoughts together, he’d already decided this wasn’t happening tonight; but with the way she was pulling on his ear with her teeth…for the life of him, he couldn’t remember why.

“I don’t want to wait.”

“There’s something I need to tell you. Oh, that’s good, that feels good.” Clint rolled his hips up into her. “No…no…please I need to tell you something.”

Clint couldn’t do it, he couldn’t do this with her, not before he told her who he really was. She deserved so much better.

Daphne pulled back from him, pouting. “Hurry it up then. What do I need to know?”

“Daphne, you need to know…I need to tell you…I love you. Oh, God. I’m in love with you.” Those were not the words that Clint had intended to say, but they were out, and for the first time in his life he actually meant them.

“Will…”

“No…don’t, you don’t have to say it…please, don’t say anything…I am so fucked.” And he was. He had fallen in love with her, he had fallen for his target.


	12. Chapter 12

“Daphne, I want this. I want you. I need you.”

“I’m yours.”

They had made it to Daphne’s bedroom, only a quick “did you make the bed?” had slowed them down. Clint was naked, Daphne down to her panties. Daphne was laying on the bed, Clint hovering over top of her, stealing kisses, running his hands along her body, savoring the softness of her skin.

“We…we can’t.” The could, but they shouldn’t. His body was moving independently of his brain. His hips were grinding against her, he couldn’t remember ever being this hard. He was so fucked.

“Why?” She breathed into his ear, arching up against him.

He needed a reason and quick. He needed to come clean, that had been his plan, he had been on track to tell her the truth, then instead of the truth he intended to tell, he said he loved her. When they ended up in the bed, he had rallied and was about to speak, but then she took her top off and he was lost again.

“C…c…condom. I don’t have a condom.” Perfect reason. Not because he was a spy and had been lying to her while at the same time falling in love with her, but because he was smart and responsible.

“I do.”

He was doomed. “Why do you have condoms?”

“Because I’m a responsible adult female who may have been hoping for a little loving tonight.” Daphne looked up at him, eyes wide, lips swollen, “but, we don’t have to.”

“Doomed”

“Did you just say doomed?”

“Doomed from the day I met you. Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Where are they?”

“Nightstand, top drawer.”

They were even his brand.

“Will?”

That wasn’t his name. Fuck. He wanted his name on her lips.

“Yeah.” He froze, foil wrapper in hand, half hoping for a reprieve, half hoping for her to say she loved him, even though he had made her promise not to say anything.

“It’s been a very long time since I’ve done this. I don’t…I’m not sure…all I know is I want this; I can’t make any promises past that.”

“Daphne, love, don’t worry about that. I want you; you want me. Nothing else matters. We’ll figure the rest out as we go.” He undid the wrapper in hand and slid the contents on.

Clint slipped his hand inside the thong she was still wearing, slid a finger inside of her. Daphne relaxed her head into the pillow, “mmm Will.” That wasn’t his name, but he was too far gone to care. She was wet and ready for him. He slipped his finger out of her, pulling off her panties as he went.

He pushed his leg between hers, spreading them just wide enough for him to fit between. “Wrap your legs around me.” Clint whispered in to her ear; he wanted her as close to him as possible. “Are you sure you want this?”

“I want you.”

And with that affirmation, Clint slid home.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Daph?”

“hmmmm…yes, Will?”

“How do you feel about going to Alaska? Or Guam?”

Clint and Daphne were tangled up together, breathing together, coming down from the high they had attained.

“If you want to whisk me away on a romantic holiday, might I suggest Paris? As cliché as it is.”

“It may take a while, but I will take you anywhere and everywhere you want to go. What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to roll over to face you. Release me, you hound.” Clint snort laughed and loosened his hold on her. “I love you, Will.” She said after she was finally able to flip over to face him.

“No. Don’t say that.”

“Why the hell not? I think I fell in love with you, or realized I was in love with you when you came to take care of me on Thursday. I didn’t even have to ask; you were just here. And anyway, you said you love me.”

“And I do. I do. Fuck. I do love you. It’s different for me, though.”

“Explain.”

“I know who you are, you don’t know me. I’m, fuck, I’m older. I’m not freshly divorced.”

“Are you saying I can’t love you because I was married?”

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to say it. I don’t want you to feel like I’ve forced you or tricked you into this. I want this to be real.”

“If I felt any of those things, I wouldn’t be laying here, nude, with you.” Daphne pushed her hips against Clint’s, getting a firm reaction from Clint.

“Daph….”

“I’m ready, whenever you are.”

With the way they were laying, Daphne was only an inch or two shorter than he. Clint found something so sensual about being almost eye to eye with the woman he had just made love with…oh, made love with, not fucked, not banged, not screwed, love. Daphne leaned forward and tugged on his lower lip keeping eye contact. He was a goner.

“Alright. Maybe one more.” Clint rolled onto his back, pulling Daphne a top him.


	13. Chapter 13

“Good morning. Pancakes and sausage good with you for breakfast?” Daphne asked as Clint walked into the kitchen, all bleary eyed.

“You don’t have breakfast food.”

“Maybe I picked some up yesterday when I grabbed dinner stuff.”

Clint looked around the kitchen…shit. She was making breakfast. Another first, spending the night with someone and sticking around for breakfast.

“Shower first, then breakfast.”

“Oh, that’s fine. It’ll be ready in about twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, we can get it done in twenty minutes.” Clint picked Daphne up and threw her over his shoulder.

Thirteen minutes later, Clint was seated at Daphne’s dining table, wet hair and a shit eating grin on his face.

“Get that grin off your face, Mr. Cross. You’re lucky nothing got burnt.” Daphne put a plate of pancakes in front of Clint and dropped him a quick kiss. Clint grabbed her wrist, pulled her into his lap and kissed her deeply.

“Let me go.” She said pulling away from him. “I want my own breakfast. Tea or coffee?”

“Coffee, please.”

Daphne brought out her own plate and a cup of tea for herself and a cup of coffee for Clint.

“I’m glad you had enough foresight to bring an overnight bag.” Daphne said taking a sip of her tea.

“I debated. But I landed on being prepared.”

“But no condoms…”

“And there’s that directness.” Clint took a fortifying drink of his coffee. “I wasn’t planning on sleeping with you last night.” He quickly clarified, catching how Daphne’s smile changed from happy to forced, “I was planning on sleeping over, in your bed, cuddled up with you. I wasn’t planning naked, sexy time.”

“Why not? Do I not entice you?”

“I don’t think entice is the right word, it’…well…it’s more. You are the most perfect, beautiful, amazing woman I have ever known and had the honor of being with.” Clint took a bite of his pancakes before continuing. “Daph, I love you. Which may honestly fuck me for life, but I have no regrets about last night…or this morning. I want to be with you, no matter what the outcome may be. Also, there is still pie, so I really can’t go anywhere.”

~~~~~~~~

“What’s the plan for today?”

Clint was at the sink washing the breakfast dishes, wondering if he could legally change his name and learn enough about economics to start a new life. Daphne hoped up on the counter and began drying.

“Hey, you there?” Daphne thwapped Clint with the dish towel.

“Yeah, just thinking. Wanna’ have a lazy day? Lay on sofa, nap, other things.” Clint wiggled his eyebrows with the last suggestion making Daphne laugh.

“That sounds like a fantastic idea.”

~~~~~~~~~

“Isn’t laying like this going to make your arm go numb?”

“I don’t think so, I suppose we’ll have to wait and see.”

They were curled up on the sofa, Clint laying behind Daphne, her head resting on his arm. A random cartoon channel was playing on the tv, but neither were paying much attention. They had been taking turns asking each other questions, things that they hadn’t gotten around to asking the night before.

Clint was still reeling from the revelation that Daphne had never been out of the country, when she asked “why don’t we stay at your place tonight?”

“My apartment in DC is a shit hole, you wouldn’t want to stay there.”

“Your apartment in DC, you have more than one apartment?”

“Yeah, my place in Brooklyn is, well, it’s not really nicer, but it’s home.”

“Why do you have a place in Brooklyn?”

“Because that’s where I live. I’m only in DC for this miss…school.”

“Oh, okay. My ex is from Brooklyn, anytime anyone even hinted about New York, him growing up in Brooklyn had to be made known.”

Clint body and mind froze, something was falling into place. She met him at the Smithsonian, setting up an exhibit; he worked for SHIELD; he was from Brooklyn; she hated the Captain America exhibit…she had been married to an American icon. No, no, no, no, no, no…

“Will, did you fall asleep? You haven’t said anything or moved in like, five minutes.

“No. Not asleep. Something I want to ask you, but I don’t know how.”

“Just ask me. You’ve seen me naked. There’s not much left to hide from you.”

“Why did you leave your ex?”

“Again, with this. Fuck, Will. Fine. His views on women and their role in a marriage were a bit antiquated. When we argued about it, bad things happened.”

“What kind of bad things?”

“He’d hit me.”

That was it. Clint now knew that was what he had been sent there to find out. Not if she knew SHIELD secrets, not if she had deep state secrets that would endanger people lives, but what it would take for her to let the world know that Steve Rogers was a bad man. 

Clint sat up, pulling Daphne with him so she was facing him on the sofa. “That’s what you can’t talk about? That’s your secret? That Captain America is a wife beater?”

“I never said that. I never said those words. Will, you can’t say that.”

“You were married to Steve Rogers, weren’t you?”

“Please, don’t. I can’t say anything. I shouldn’t have even told you what I did.”

Clint pushed himself off the sofa, he stared at Daphne, not knowing what to say next. “Wait…no…you couldn’t have been married to him.” Clint stopped panicking a bit. “He’s only been back for, what, like a year, right?”

“They found him in the ice five years ago. It’s only been made public knowledge that he’s back within the past few months. Only a few of us knew he was still alive when they first found him. The Smithsonian exhibit was supposed to be his welcome back but he wasn’t sure he wanted to be Captain America again, so the powers that be delayed the announcement he was still alive. He thought he wanted a normal quite life, a wife, some kids, you know, the American Dream. Then he turned out to be a terrible person and SHIELD covered it all up. Turned him back into Captain America, reintroduced him to the public, but hid all of his secrets. They wanted a rallying point, if the public found out what he did to me, it would mean billions of dollars in lost revenue from merchandising and bonds, and a huge decline in military enlistment.”

Daphne had pulled her legs up underneath of her, resting her head on her knees. She wasn’t crying, but Clint could tell it was a struggle. “And that’s everything, everything that I’m not supposed to talk about, my big dark secret. Are you happy now?”

“I need a minute.” Daphne stood up and moved towards Clint. “No. Daphne. Please. I need a minute to think.”

~~~~~~

Clint sat on the stoop of Daphne’ brownstone, burner phone in hand, trying to decide what to do. Fate intervened, and scared the shit out of him, when his phone started ringing.

“She was married to Rogers, she married Captain fucking America?” Clint didn’t even bother saying hello or verifying who was calling. He had missed his check in on Friday and there were only two people who had the number to this phone.

“Did she tell you that?”

“No, I figured it out on my own.” Clint didn’t mention all the other information that Daphne had shared after he realized who her ex-husband is.

“Do you think anyone else would be able to figure it out with the same information you have been given?”

“Was this my mission? To see if she’d tell people that Rogers is an asshole? What’s the plan if say I she’ll tell anyone who listens?”

“Your extraction team will be at your location in two minutes.”

Clint stood next to Daphne’s building, tucked up in the shadows, hiding from sight in case she looked out her window. His mind was racing, he had spent months with this woman, it had taken him months to figure out she’d been married to Steve Rogers. Clint had never met the man, but Coulson was obsessed with him, even had an antique set of trading cards. Now Clint was worried that this mission wasn’t SHIELD sanctioned, but came directly from Coulson to protect his childhood hero from bad press. 

There was no way that Clint was going to let this mission end with an elimination or screwing up her life more than the employees of SHIELD had already. Daphne deserved more, he wasn’t going to let them ship her off to some Podunk town where she’d never be seen or heard from again, that was almost as bad as elimination. He needed a plan, well, he needed several plans, backups for his backups. 

A dark sedan pulled to the side of the road; Clint knew this was his extraction team. He had two choices, get in the car and be debriefed, or, say screw it and go back upstairs, blow his cover, let Daphne know what is going on, what was going on from the start. His instinct was to run back up to the woman he loved, pray that she’d forgive him and tuck her away until he could solve this problem. His body had started moving back towards the door before his mind had made a conscious decision. He hadn’t moved far when the window in the sedan rolled down.

“Get in the car, Barton.”

“Hey, Phil.”

“Don’t be stupider than normal, get in the car.”

Finish the mission.

Clint closed his eyes, took a deep steadying breath, re-focused and walked to the car.


End file.
